Brothers in Arms
by shadowblade-tara
Summary: A series of one-shots featuring the unique relationship that is Dean and Cas. Chap 3: Crowds and Dean just don't get along. Now he has a whole new reason to hate them. COMPLETE, BUT MAY STILL BE UPDATED
1. Singing a Different Tune

Supernatural © the CW. Not mine.

AN: Not part of the Redemption series. Just some fun that came to mind this morning when I should have been studying.

**Singing a Different Tune**

Sam can hear him.

Even after Michael send him back, heals him, he can hear Dean and Michael talking. Arguing, actually. The voices ring in his head, clear even after he slams his hands over his ears in a desperate bid to make it stop. He hates hearing it, hates the anger and desperation in his brother's voice. He's heard it too often before.

This time, though, it's not about him.

"_Time to go."_

"_What about Cas?"_

He can almost imagine Michael smiling. He doesn't want to imagine anything. He doesn't want to hear this.

"_What about him?"_

"_Send him back, too."_

"_Why should I? Castiel is a big boy – he'll find you when he wakes up."_

"_Dammit, I'm not leaving him here! He's hurt!"_

Sam sinks to his knees, tears tracking down his face. The argument is familiar, too familiar, oh God do they have to do this again? He's praying again, the only thing he knows how to do when Dean gets that tone in his voice – when his big brother knows he's fighting a losing battle, but he can't stop fighting. Sam knows he won't shut up until Michael either gives or kills him. God, please, just send Cas back!

"_Listen to me, Dean – Castiel is not my problem. He's not yours, either. He's just a little angel who doesn't know how the game is played. He's nothing."_

"_He's mine!"_

His? His what? His friend? His angel?

His brother?

"_It's time to go home, Dean."_

And suddenly Dean is standing in front of him. He spins around, no doubt looking for Michael so he can strangle him – then his eyes land on Sam, and the anger and hate and fear vanish, buried too deep for Sam to see. Dean grabs Sam's shoulders and pulls him into a fierce embrace. Sam can feel Dean trembling even as he hugs him back, holding him as tightly as he can.

It takes a while for Dean to calm down. Sam suggests a drink while they wait for Cas. Dean agrees, and perhaps Sam is the only one who can hear the small tremor in his voice.

When Cas returns, exhausted to the point of collapse, Sam can only feel relief. Dean isn't the only one who's gotten more attached to the angel than he should be.

/-/

Castiel wakes in the middle of the night. His legs are no longer hanging off of the foot of the bed, nor is he still wearing his coat and tie. He's aware of warmth to his left and right, and a light pressure on his chest. Slowly, he opens his eyes.

Sam is lying to his left, his back facing Castiel and barely touching his arm, and the angel knows he's sleeping soundly. To his right is Dean, sitting with his back pressed against Castiel's hip and his hand resting lightly on his chest. He's awake and staring blankly at the wall, an unopened beer in his other hand. Castiel reaches up and gently wraps his hand around the wrist that is on his chest. He doesn't want to wake Sam, so he says nothing.

Dean's head whips around, beer and wall instantly forgotten as his eyes focus on Castiel. Many things cross his face at once, but what lingers is a relief so profound Castiel has only ever seen it in reference to Sam. To see that look directed at him – possessive protection and relief and guilt all rolled up and packed away into a man who shouldn't have to bear so much – makes Castiel's eyes widen just a bit.

He hadn't realized he meant so much to the hunter.

Dean puts down the beer and raises his now-free hand to Castiel's face, touching his neck with two fingers. Castiel smiles faintly. "I'm fine, Dean." he says, voice so quiet Dean almost doesn't hear it. Sam barely twitches, soft snores undisturbed.

"You passed out on us again – don't expect me to take your word for it." Dean whispers back, checking the angel's pulse and everything else he can while not moving from his post at the bed. Castiel tolerates the extra attention.

"How long was I out?" he asks.

"Since three in the afternoon." Dean responds tersely. "Thought you weren't breathing for a while there." He nods his head to Sam. "At least he snores when he sleeps."

Castiel nods. "I'm sor – "

"Don't apologize." Dean whispers harshly, his voice getting even quieter. "I _begged_ Michael to bring you back with us, did everything I could, and he still left you there. The bastard." Dean looks away from him, but makes no move to stand or leave.

Suddenly Castiel understands. He tugs on Dean's wrist, forcing the man to look back at him. "I don't blame you." he says quietly. "I stuck around long enough for Michael to find me. He told me he had sent the two of you home." He smiles that tiny smile of his, and Dean smiles back. "He told me you fought with him."

"Only verbally."

"Still. It's more than most have." And for his sake, too. He squeezes Dean's wrist. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." Dean says.

Sam shifts, the quiet voices having finally woke him up. He rolls over, almost rolling on top of Castiel, but Dean reaches out and grabs his shoulder. "Dude. You ain't alone in the bed tonight."

"That sounded vaguely wrong." Sam groans and sits up. Then he glances down at Castiel. "Cas! You're awake!"

"That much is obvious." Castiel can't get his voice to go much louder than a harsh whisper, but the small joke gets Sam to laugh.

Dean smiles at them. "Both of you, get back to sleep." he says. "We gotta check out in the morning." Sam nods, and instead of moving to the other bed, he simply settles back down and falls asleep again beside Castiel. Dean snorts. "Kid always could sleep just about anywhere." he comments with no small amount of affection. He goes to stand, but Castiel tugs on his wrist. He hasn't let go yet.

"I don't think there's a rule that says you can't share the same bed as your brother." Castiel says quietly. Dean chuckles.

"I can make it to the other bed, Cas."

Castiel smirks. "Maybe, but I'm offering. It's not like Sam's moving any time soon."

Dean chuckles. "True." He reaches out and taps Castiel's forehead. "Go to sleep."

Castiel smiles and closes his eyes. When he wakes the next morning, Dean and Sam are still on either side of him, both fast asleep.

So this is what it feels like to truly have brothers.

/-/

AN: Okay, that actually came off a bit more Destiel than I intended. Oh well. Meant to be read as brothers, but hey, read whatever you want to into it.

By the way – sisters do share beds like that. I found out you can fit three teenage girls on the same full-sized bed if we're tired enough. My sisters and I did that once, so that's where the ending scene came from. Not being a brother, I don't know if brothers would do the same thing. Hence the unintended Destiel.

Review, please!


	2. Nicknames

AN: Wow. You guys know how to make a writer feel loved, I'll tell you that. Keep em coming!

And this little one-shot was inspired by a pic from DeviantArt. The artists comments made a lot of sense, and lo and behold, we have this. So enjoy, and let me know what ya think!

**Nicknames**

It is Dean's habit to give nicknames to people he cares about. Castiel knows this better than anyone. He also knows that Dean cares about him, because Dean is the first one to ever give him a nickname. Never before has Castiel been called anything but that. He's never experienced the intimacy with another that allows him to feel comfortable with that person shortening his name.

Yet it isn't very long before Castiel becomes 'Cas', and at first it's only to Dean. At first, it takes Castiel by surprise. After all, he's never even heard of nicknames until now. Sam doesn't use it, but that's okay. It feels special when Dean calls him Cas. He doesn't think the name would sound special if someone else used it.

He is right.

The first time he finds out is when Uriel calls him 'Cas'. Uriel is his brother, after all – it is allowed for brothers to develop nicknames for each other, if Dean and Sam are anything to go by – but this name doesn't sound nice coming from Uriel. It doesn't have the same affection behind it that 'Sammy' has when Dean calls his brother that, or even the same trust that is implied when Dean calls him 'Cas'. It sounds mocking, derogatory.

He never gets the chance to confront Uriel about it. Anna kills him not too long after that.

Anna herself uses the nickname once. Castiel doesn't say anything – he merely refuses to respond to it. It sounds almost as wrong coming from Anna as it does coming from Uriel. Anna only uses the nickname once, maybe twice. Then she dies, and it's never a problem again.

Sam picks up the nickname, too, mostly calling him 'Cas' after Dean already has. That doesn't bother Castiel as much as the others. Sam does it as a method of brotherly affection. Castiel's original purpose may have been to guide Dean towards being Michael's vessel, but he's taken on both brothers as his to protect. He can tolerate Sam calling him 'Cas'. He calls Samuel 'Sam', after all. Turnabout's fair play.

This new one, on the other hand, is grating Castiel's last nerve.

Sam isn't in the room, and for that Castiel is grateful. One less vulnerable human to worry about. Dean has been thrown to the other side of the motel room, shattered glass littering the floor around him. Castiel can sense the broken bones and blinding pain. He doesn't have to look to know that Dean is once again struggling to get to his feet – as if the damage of the motel room that the 'battle' had taken place in isn't enough of an indication that this fight can't be won. That's just who Dean is.

Zachariah is on the other side of the room, Castiel in between him and Dean. Anger simmers through Castiel. "I thought I warned you to stay away." he growls, eyes dark, fists clenched. Zachariah smiles at him, as if he hasn't just harmed the one thing Castiel swore to protect.

"Come on, Cas, you know as well as I that little Dean must be made to see his place." Zachariah says calmly. He takes a step forward, and Castiel doesn't back down. If he gives any ground – well, that won't be good for Dean or him. He has to stand firm, so he _will_ stand firm. "Just step aside like a good little soldier."

"Make me."

"Cas – don't – " Dean coughs, blood spattering his lips, and Castiel knows he's running out of time. He still has enough Grace left to heal Dean from this damage. Zachariah just needs to back off.

Zachariah snickers. "Yes, Cas, don't mess with your superiors. Obey your orders. _Step aside._"

Castiel does no such thing. Instead, he decks Zachariah across the face, breaking the older angel's nose. Zachariah stumbles, falls to the floor, and suddenly Castiel is crouched beside him, one hand with a silver blade at the other's throat. When he speaks, his voice is soft and deadly. Nothing like it should have been.

"You will stay away from Dean. He is not yours to torment." Another thought occurs to him, and his voice lowers even more.

"_And my name is Castiel. Not Cas."_

He jerks his hand back, ready to strike, and suddenly Zachariah is gone. Coward. Castiel stands and approaches Dean, kneeling once again and checking him over for damage. There's broken ribs and punctured lungs, and that's what Castiel heals first.

Dean grabs his wrists, stopping him from moving on to lesser injuries. "Dean – "

"Cas bothers you that bad?"

He hadn't realized Dean had heard that. He pauses for a moment, unsure what to say. In the end, he just says it.

"Not when you call me that."

Dean sighs in relief. "Hate to think I was pissing you off without knowing."

Castiel smiles, but doesn't respond. There's no need.

**/-/**

AN: Wow. That was short. Heck. Review please!


	3. Subway Station

An: This is something that just popped into my head the other day.

**Subway Station**

Dean hates subway stations. The places are simply too crowded for Dean's taste. Too many people, to little room. Dean feels helpless every time he enters the subway station. There's no way to defend himself, no way to run, no way to fight. A light sweat breaks out on his forehead as he tries to force his way through the crowd, struggling to keep his brother in sight. Maybe he should have held on to Sam's jacket like he had suggested.

Sam is not claustrophobic. Sam has no problems with the utter lack of personal space, not like Dean. Sam moves effortlessly through the crowd (it has to be something he picked up at Stanford) and Dean can't keep up. He's starting to lose sight of Sam, and that scares him worse than the crowd. If something happens to Sam, Dean won't be able to get to him in time to help.

Turns out, it's not Sam Dean needs to worry about.

"Sammy!" Dean calls out, but his voice is drowned out by the thousands of others. Sam doesn't turn around, doesn't wait. Dean doesn't get the chance to try again.

Someone slams into him from behind, knocking him to the sticky ground. He doesn't get the chance to recover and stand up before a foot catches him in the ribs, sending him crashing to the floor chin-first. The breath leaves him in a whoosh, and then it gets worse.

There's got to be at least five of them, Dean figures, just from the sheer amount of feet and hands that are beating on him. He can barely catch his breath.

This is professional – or at least, experienced. Dean can't get a good look at the people attacking him. They're wearing hoodies with no markings, and no one seems to care that a random man is getting the crap kicked out of him. Apparently this happens frequently.

"Dean!" Sam realizes what's going on, and now he's fighting to get back to his brother. He's not going to make it in time; Dean keeps struggling, and the more Dean struggles, the worse his attackers make it for him. Dean is going to die before Sam can get to him.

A vicious kick to his ribs, and something _snaps_, and Dean cries out in pain and anger. He's screaming and cursing as much as he can, but the beating just continues, and Sam is stuck where he is, unable to get to his brother through the flood of people just moving away.

Oddly enough, it's Sam's voice that screams out the name.

"_Castiel!"_

Dean's already halfway unconscious when it happens, but Sam can see everything. Suddenly, the men are no longer beating on Dean. Something is in between them, something wearing a tan trench coat. Castiel materializes crouched over Dean, sheltering him with his body. Dean instinctively curls closer to his shield, seemingly unaware. His eyes slowly slide open. He tries to speak, but blood bubbles from his mouth and trickles down his chin. He can barely breathe.

Castiel's head snaps over to stare at Sam, and suddenly all three of them are gone. It is all Castiel can do to keep his Grace in check, to not blind the innocent bystanders.

The thugs who attacked Dean don't get the same special treatment.

/-/

Sam, Dean, and Castiel materialize in Bobby's living room. Luckily the old hunter isn't in there at the moment, though judging from the cursing he is in the adjoining room and very much aware of his unexpected visitors. Sam doesn't even glance at Bobby – his eyes focus in on Dean, who is now very much unconscious and bloody. He looks like a massive bruise – the only thing untouched his is face, which he managed to protect with his arms.

Bobby's voice rings out. "What the hell happened to him!"

Castiel doesn't respond. He looks up at Sam, who has kneeled at Dean's head. "Hold his arms." he instructs, and Sam does so without question. Castiel adjusts himself so his legs are pinning Dean's and he presses his hands hard against the taller man's torso. Bones slide back into place and blood returns to its original path. Castiel is concerned – he's never had to heal such extensive injuries before. By all rights, Dean Winchester should be in surgery, if not already in the morgue.

Dean arches into Cas's hands, screaming as the healing progresses. Sam's eyes widen, the blood draining from his face, but he keeps a tight grip on Dean's shoulders. The screams continue. Bobby covers his ears with his hands. Sam wishes he could do the same.

Suddenly the cries stop, and Castiel is on the other side of the living room. His fists are clenched, but Sam is too good at reading people to not see the slight trembling. He looks from Dean to Sam, seeking aid Sam doesn't know how to give. He does know one thing, though.

"Can you help me get him to the bedroom?" he asks. "I can't move him on my own."

"Of course."

/-/

Dean wakes up and realizes that he is alone. He feels better – he can breathe without pain – but he's still pretty sore. He gets off the bed with some difficulty, grunting a little as he straightens. He can hear Sam and Castiel in the other room, and luckily he doesn't have far to go to get to them. He leans against the doorframe, body aching.

Castiel is sitting on the bed, shirt and coat discarded as Sam examines his bruises. Dean tenses.

"Sam, they'll heal on their own." Castiel protests.

"I know. But they'll feel better if you let me put this on them." Sam points out reasonably. Castiel shakes his head, that familiar confused tilt already there. Dean clears his throat.

"Let me do it."

Sam stands immediately. "Dean, you need to be resting – "

"I know, Sammy. Just let me do it."

Sam nods and hands Dean the jar of medicated cream they always kept on hand for bruises and strained muscles. Dean nods his thanks and moves to sit on the bed behind Castiel. Sam quietly slips from the room. Dean gets some of the medication on his hands and rubs them against Castiel's back. The angel frowns. "I will heal."

"Hush." Dean says roughly. "You aren't supposed to get bruised up because of me."

Understanding flashes across Castiel's face, but Dean can't see it.

"You aren't supposed to be nearly killed by a bunch of humans." Castiel retorts. "My healings aren't supposed to hurt you that badly."

Dean flashes him a tired grin. "Well, when I get done here, you can return the favor. I don't heal nearly as fast as you do. We'll call it even."

Castiel smiles faintly. "All right."

Sam smiles to himself as he stands just outside the doorway. His brothers will be fine.

/-/

AN: Yeah, by the way – when I said a few days ago at the beginning of this, this actually came to mind about two months ago. I hate school.

and yes, I did just break Dean's ribs twice in one go. Whoops. I apparently like dealing with Hurt!Dean.


End file.
